Not Exactly a Day at the Beach
by emergencyfan
Summary: What was supposed to be a pleasant 'day off' at the beach on the mainland for Sheppard, Rodney and Beckett suddenly turns sour.
1. Beach Boys

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own 'em. Didn't create 'em. Stargate Atlantis and all related characters are property of MGM.  
Set fairly early in Season II.   
Thanks to Nebbyjen & MNTalbert for the beta and kibitzing!

* * *

NOT EXACTLY A DAY AT THE BEACH

"A surfboard?" Rodney stared in disbelief at the bright yellow object that was glaringly out of place in one of the main corridors of Atlantis. "Where in the hell did you get a surfboard?"

"I have my ways," John Sheppard replied. He was dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tacky Hawaiian shirt that defied colors found in nature. The surfboard was tucked under one arm and he held a cooler in his other hand. "Wanna come?"

"Where?" McKay asked suspiciously. Now that they had regular contact with Earth and had brought in extra members for the expedition Weir made sure everyone got regular breaks in their schedules, and it looked like Sheppard was planning to make the most of his.

"I saw some sweet breakers with a nice little secluded beach when we first discovered the mainland." Sheppard shifted the surfboard a bit to help balance the weight of the cooler.

McKay harrumphed. "In case you've forgotten, I burn easily."

"SPF100," Sheppard reminded him. "There's a tarp in the jumper, I'm sure we could rig some shade for you." Seeing that McKay might actually be considering it, he sweetened the pot, "Plus no one to pester you while you work on whatever you want."

"Yeah? Well, I _have_ been working on this theory, but I haven't been able to find the time to run the simulations. I _could_ transfer the program to a laptop and bring it with me."

"There ya go!" For McKay, just sitting on the beach no matter what he was doing was a step towards normal, and Sheppard was pleased by the prospect. The scientist had seemed particularly snarky lately and even Teyla was beginning to lose patience with him. Sheppard suspected that what Rodney _really_ needed was to get laid, but McKay was strictly on his own for that--a day at the beach was all Sheppard was willing to provide. "You have fifteen minutes to meet me in the jumper bay or I'm leaving without you." He started back down the hall glancing over his shoulder to see if McKay accepted the offer and almost clobbered Beckett with the surfboard as they both came around the corner at the same time. "Oops! Sorry, Doc!"

"It's quite alright…" said Beckett, trailing off when he saw what Sheppard was carrying. He blinked. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Sure is, Doc. Downtime today. Even convinced McKay to come out and play. Wanna come?" He knew that Beckett's day off happened to correspond with theirs that particular week.

"A day at the beach?" A grin split the doctor's face, "I don't mind if I do."

"Fine, you have twelve minutes." He handed the heavy cooler to the doctor. "Add whatever you want and meet us in the jumper bay."

Whistling happily under his breath, Sheppard continued down the hall. He turned another corner and stopped mid-note. Caldwell and a Daedalus officer were in the middle of the corridor. Luckily, Caldwell's back was to him, so Sheppard did a quick spin-on-heel and chose an alternate route to the Jumper Bay.

Within a few minutes, he was strapping the surfboard along the passage between the jumper seats. Sitting it up on one side and lashing it to a seat stabilized it still left plenty of room for his passengers. Speaking of which--he looked out into the jumper bay and saw both McKay and Beckett approaching, laden with items. "Come on you two, I don't want to waste my day off waiting for you!"

The two men picked up the pace and had their gear stowed within a few minutes. Both took their seats, uncharacteristically large grins suffusing their faces. While Rodney chose the co-pilot's chair, Beckett was just as happy to take a seat in the row behind him. Sheppard took the pilot's seat and began his preflight check, deciding he was glad he had invited them. Besides, he'd be out on the water all day, so it's not like they were intruding on his plans. He did, however, tease McKay unmercifully for wearing his jacket, long pants, socks, and sneakers to the beach. Rodney replied testily that he chilled easily. Beckett merely rolled his eyes.

After asking and receiving clearance from the command center, Sheppard steered the puddle jumper smoothly up and out of the jumper bay and out into the early morning sun.

"So, where'd you get a surfboard?" McKay asked again.

"If I told ya, I'd hafta kill ya," replied Sheppard cheerfully. He knew one of the things Rodney hated most--next to certain death of course--was being ignorant, of anything. The man was a living sponge when it came to knowledge. He flicked a glance at the scientist and sure enough, his mouth was set in a grim, unhappy line. Sheppard felt so good about the prospect of a day surfing that he relented. "I smuggled it aboard the Daedalus in a crate marked 'explosives'."

"You _what_?"

"Now, now, Rodney, don't act so surprised," Sheppard chided. "Like you need _three_ electromagnetic field generators…" He watched as the scientist suddenly became very interested in the console in front of him. "…and since when have they started making them out of Snicker's bars?"

The scientist gave Sheppard a calculating look. "How did you find out about that?"

"Uh, uh, uh." Sheppard wagged a finger at him, "Hafta kill you, remember?" He heard Beckett chuckle behind him and winked at Rodney, waiting until the doctor took a swallow of water from the bottle he was holding, "You might ask the Doc what he smuggled back though." He grinned when he heard Beckett choke and cough, confirming a lucky guess on his part. It was only human nature that anyone who returned to Atlantis would try to smuggle _something_ on the trip back. A year was plenty of time for you to rethink your priorities and decide what was _really_ important to you while stranded in an alien galaxy. Sheppard had ferreted out most of the items on the sly, just to make sure no one brought along anything dangerous, chucking any questionable items before they even left port. Beckett's stuff though… Containers labeled "biohazard" and "radioactive" made Sheppard think twice about opening them. Besides, he was sure the doctor wouldn't bring along anything that would endanger the expedition. He _was_ curious though; and now that he had clued Rodney in, it was only a matter of time before the scientist dug up that little tidbit of information.

Most of the rest of the trip passed in either companionable silence or with Beckett firmly but good naturedly resisting Rodney's attempts to find out what he had managed to smuggle back from Earth.

Sheppard set the puddle jumper down on the beach about a hundred yards from their destination and far enough away from the surf so that it would be safe from the incoming tide. The beach was a sandy thirty yards or so wide, ending on its inland side at the edge of a thick forest. "Okay, we're parked at Goofy 7. That's Goofy 7. Please make a note of it so you can find your vehicle at the end of the day," he quipped. McKay grinned but Beckett looked confused. "Never been on vacation at Disneyworld, Doc?"

"No, can't say I have."

They unloaded the gear while Rodney explained the ins and outs of amusement park parking lots. Secretly, Sheppard was surprised the scientist had ever been to an amusement park. It took two trips to get everything transported. Once the jumper had been unloaded, Sheppard helped McKay gather a few fallen branches from the tree line above the high tide mark and rig a lean-to so the scientist could work in the shade.

Meanwhile, Beckett had donned an absolutely ridiculous hat that might, at some point in the past, have once been white. Now, however, it was a stained and beaten gray punctuated here and there with colorful fishing lures. He had a tackle box in one hand and a fishing pole in the other, leaning against his shoulder.

Sheppard began squeezing into his wetsuit. It was the kind that left his shins and arms bare.

"You're not really going out in _that_?" asked McKay as he settled comfortably on a blanket under his lean-to.

It took Sheppard a moment to realize Rodney was referring to the ocean and not his wetsuit. "What the heck did you think I was going to do, Rodney?" he asked, zipping up the suit and picking up his board.

"There could be anything in there. Sea monsters..."

Sheppard choked back a laugh. "_Sea monsters_?"

"...or man-eating sharks," continued Rodney.

Still shaking his head in amusement, Sheppard noticed that Beckett looked a little concerned as well. "Don't worry, the marine biologists had to start somewhere and this cove was just as good a place as any." He winked indicating some bribery might have been involved. "They didn't find anything dangerous. But if it will make you feel better..." He reached down into his gym bag and pulled out a lifesigns detector, tossing it to Rodney. "You can hang on to this and give a yell if you see anything."

Beckett peered into the gym bag and noticed a variety of other items, at least one of which was not normally found at the beach. "You brought your gun?" He looked up to meet Sheppard's eyes. "Something you haven't told us, Colonel?" McKay perked up as well.

"Hey Doc, I was a boyscout--sort-of. Besides, 'expect the unexpected' is practically the motto of the Pegasus Galaxy."

"A bit obsessive, aren't we?" asked Beckett, only half joking.

Sheppard merely shot him a grin in reply and tucked the surfboard under an arm, running towards the ocean and plunging in with a yell that was part glee and part shock as the cold water hit his bare legs. It wasn't long before he was happily paddling out towards the breakers.

Gathering up his equipment, Beckett gave Rodney a wave before heading a little further down the beach where he saw some rock outcroppings, deciding they would make an excellent base from which to fish.

Rodney took a quick glance at the lifesigns detector before leaning back and lazily typing in the commands that would start his latest simulations running. As the sun climbed higher, the sand began to warm up. He was still quite comfortable in the shade, but he took off his shoes and socks and dug his feet into the warm sand, enjoying the sensation. He tucked his arms behind his head, watching the puffy white clouds drift gently by. A cold drop of water on his face woke him. He blinked several times, trying to get his bearings and realized that Carson had returned and was digging through the cooler. He was absently holding the fishing pole over Rodney and another cold drop of water dripped off it onto the scientist.

"Do you mind?"

"What? Oh, sorry," Beckett apologized sheepishly and moved the pole slightly.

"What time is it?"

The doctor squinted towards the sky. "After midday, I'd guess. I didn't bring my watch."

"Really? I guess I must have dozed off." McKay sat up and pulled on his socks and shoes.

"Seems a likely possibility," agreed the Scot, dryly. "Lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan." Rodney looked out towards the ocean, watching as Sheppard caught another wave. "He's actually pretty good, isn't he?"

Beckett turned to look. "Yes, fascinating sport." He cringed as the colonel made a miscalculation and the wave crashed down on top of him with crushing force.

"Guess that's what they call a 'wipe out'?"

"Aye."

They watched the bright yellow surfboard pop to the surface and waited expectantly, but when Sheppard didn't immediately reappear, they shot each other a concerned glance. Rodney rose to his feet and they walked to the water's edge. The lone surfboard bobbed in the water, each wave pushing it a little closer towards shore before pulling it back out again.

"I don't see him, Carson."

"Neither do I," was the equally worried reply.

A sharp whistle pierced the crashing noise of the waves and they saw an arm waving from about forty feet from the board. Once he saw he had their attention, Sheppard gave them a quick thumbs-up before striking out towards the surfboard.

Rodney and Beckett both let out the breath they had been holding and stood watching until Sheppard made it to the board and paddled in towards the shore. Once he was close enough, he jumped off and tucked it under his arm, splashing his way up onto the beach. Beckett decided he looked both tired and euphoric, a nice change from just a few months ago when everyone around him looked desperate and exhausted past endurance.

"Having fun?" snapped Rodney, still a little tense.

Sheppard slung a cold, sopping wet arm around McKay's shoulders, ignoring the scientist's disgusted look. "Heaven, Rodney, pure heaven!"

Beckett shook his head, grinning. "We were just going to have a bite of lunch."

"Sounds great!" Sheppard let go of Rodney and slammed the tail of his board into the sand, working it back and forth and left it standing without further support as the three men walked back to the lean-to. He peeled off his wetsuit and towel dried his hair, leaving it even messier than usual.

Rummaging in the cooler, Beckett pulled out several sandwiches and examined them. "Turkey," he said, handing it over to Sheppard automatically. "Looks like tuna or ham and cheese." He offered both to Rodney. The scientist shrugged, indicating no preference, so the Scot kept the tuna for himself and handed over the ham and cheese.

"Anything in there to drink?" asked Sheppard, shrugging into his Hawaiian shirt and settling the now damp towel around his neck.

Beckett passed him and Rodney both a bottle of water before taking one for himself. The three sat on Rodney's blanket in the shade of the lean-to, contentedly munching on their lunch and looking out into the open sea and bright blue sky.

"Lovely idea, this," remarked Carson.

And then everything went to hell.


	2. Disturbing Developments

"Atlantis Base, this is Jumper Two," radioed Caldwell.

_"This is Atlantis Base, Jumper Two, we read you."_

The search lights from the jumper lit up the dark beach, illuminating Jumper One and the empty sand surrounding it. "We found Jumper One, but we don't see anyone in the immediate area and there's still no response from them on the radio. We're going to land."

_"Roger, Jumper Two."_

The pilot brought them down, landing as near to the first jumper as possible. Several men dressed in full military gear exited, each carrying heavy-duty high-beam flashlights, and began to investigate the immediate area. Their pilot checked Jumper One, reporting to Caldwell that it was in perfect working order and that there was no sign of a struggle or anything else that indicated a problem. The rest of the men began circling the jumpers in ever increasing spirals looking for any clue as to what happened to the occupants. "Sir!" called one of the men, his flashlight focused on the ground about twenty yards from the jumper.

Caldwell jogged over and knelt down, touching his fingers to the stain in the sand. When he raised them, they were red-black and sticky. He held his hand so the marine could see. "Blood."

"What happened here, sir?" asked the soldier, holding his P90 at the ready and looking around alertly.

Caldwell shook his head grimly. "I don't know, but I damn well plan to find out." Standing up, he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "SHEPPARD?" When there was no response, he tried again, "MCKAY? BECKETT?" The men paused in their search, straining their ears, but there was no reply.

One of the other soldiers gave a shout when he found Sheppard's surfboard still planted in the sand along with the remains of a lean-to and a cooler. Caldwell and his men pulled the tarp out of the jumbled mess, spreading it out on the beach. Their flashlights picked up long rents in the fabric and what was certainly more blood.

"I don't like the look of this," said Caldwell. He turned to Stackhouse, "Radio Dr. Weir and let her know what we've found. I want to see two additional jumpers out here to help with the search come daybreak." He looked doubtfully at the thick forest bordering the beach, knowing that the chances of spotting anyone from the air were unlikely.

"Yes, sir." Stackhouse returned to the jumper to make the call, reappearing a few minutes later. "The medical team on Atlantis base is requesting samples of the blood to see if they can determine who was injured."

"Do it," said Caldwell. "Send it back on Jumper One. It can load up with search personnel for its return trip."

"Yes, sir."

oOo

"Well?" asked Weir, pacing the small confines of the infirmary lab. Teyla and Zelenka stood nearby, also anxiously waiting for the results.

Dr. Fredricks looked up from the microscope and picked up the slide containing the sample from the sand near the jumper. "This appears to be animal blood of some type, possibly feline." Shaking his head grimly, he added, "It would have to be a pretty big animal to have lost the amount of blood the search team reported and still walked away."

"How big?" asked Weir.

"Can't tell for sure, but from what Caldwell's team reported, I'd guess a couple hundred pounds, possibly much more. These two," he said indicating the other samples taken from the tarp. "Appear to be from Drs. Beckett and McKay."

Weir pursed her lips in worry. It was to be expected that some, if not all, the samples would be from their ill-fated expedition members but she had still hoped… She shook herself. The facts were the facts and no amount of wishing was going to change them. Turning to Teyla she asked, "Have any of the Athosians on the mainland reported seeing something that might be responsible for this?"

"No," Teyla replied sadly. "They have seen no large predators, only smaller animals that hunt in packs; but they have only explored a small portion of the mainland and that is far from where the Colonel said he was going."

Weir nodded in understanding, mentally picturing the location of Sheppard's cove and the Athosian settlement.

"I would like to be on the search team. I am familiar with tracking wounded animals."

Weir's heart fell even further. Teyla had foreseen yet another problem. A wounded animal was even more dangerous than an uninjured one.

"I would like to go, too," volunteered Zelenka. "There might be a way to adapt the jumper's scanners to help us search more efficiently."

"Go on then." She watched as both left to gear up before heading to the jumper bay, wishing she could go with them. She turned her attention back to the doctor, meeting his equally worried gaze. The medics were a tight knit group and Carson had long since earned their unswerving loyalty and respect. "Gather what equipment and personnel you need and report to the jumper bay as soon as possible."

Turning off the microscope, he nodded. "It will take me about ten minutes to pack the supplies, and I'll need at least one medic. Shelia would probably be best, she used to moonlight at a zoo on her days off, as I recall."

"I'll have her paged," offered Weir. "Your ride leaves in fifteen minutes, Doctor, don't be late."

oOo

False dawn was just beginning to break along the beach as the extra manpower Caldwell requested arrived. "Teyla," he acknowledged as she exited the jumper.

"Colonel," she greeted in return with a small dip of her head before getting straight to business. "You have found tracks?"

"Yes, this way." He led the Athosian to the lean-to and watched as Teyla grimly fingered the bloodstained rents in the tarp and then knelt down to better examine the ground. "We followed them quite a ways into the forest but they entered a river, obviously in an attempt to throw whatever it was off their trail," said Caldwell, crouching down beside her. "There's no way of knowing how far they waded and my men haven't been able to find where they got out--if they did."

Teyla pursed her lips unhappily. Trailing someone through water was almost impossible. "We should follow the animal instead," she said with certainly. "If it is still tracking them, it will lead us to their location."

Nodding in agreement, Caldwell stood up and began walking back towards the jumper. "We found more blood over here."

Teyla followed him, studying the sand around the stain. Caldwell's searching men had disturbed the muted tracks in several places, but there was still enough of an imprint to see where they disappeared into the tree line. She automatically started to follow the tracks into the forest, but a hand on her arm stopped her. Glancing up in surprise, she only then realized that Caldwell had continued to shadow her. She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"One minute." He handed her his P90 and waved several men over to provide back-up. "Alright," he said, releasing her arm. She nodded her acceptance as she and her marine hunting party began tracking their prey.

Caldwell watched them until they faded into the gloom of the trees, then walked back to the jumper. "Any progress, Doctor?" he asked Zelenka.

Buried wrist-deep in the guts of the jumper's control panel, the scientist could only shrug. "I have not yet been able to narrow down the types of lifesigns. The sensors were not created to define individual types of life," he said, indicating the screen filled with bright dots representing various life forms in the general area." Unable to spare a hand, he used his forearm to shove his glasses a little further up on his nose. "I am attempted to use a kind of sonar to..."

"_Sir, this is Stackhouse_," interrupted a voice over the radio. "Keep at it," Caldwell told Zelenka before cuing up his radio. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"_Teyla is requesting we hang back, sir."_

"Why?"

"_She said something about us sounding like a herd of rutting jarmongas."_

Caldwell rubbed his forehead. He could already feel a headache forming. "I want everyone to stay within weapon's range of each other. Tell _Miss _Emmagan that all of my men are stealth trained and she'll just have to deal," he said as he made his way back out to the beach, his eyes automatically running along the treeline.

"_Wouldn't _you_ rather tell her that, sir?"_

He stopped looking at the trees and gave the radio his undivided attention. "Is there a problem, Sergeant?" he asked coldly.

"_No, sir, I'll tell her,"_ came the resigned reply. Caldwell could hear another man in the background who obviously near enough to Stackhouse for the radio to pick up his comment, _"She is _so_ gonna kick your ass during our next training session for this, you know."_ He heard Stackhouse whisper _"shut up" _as the radio clicked off.

"Colonel Caldwell," called Zelenka excitedly as he exited the jumper.

Caldwell watched as the scientist walked toward him, obviously intent on the readings of the device he was holding in his hands. "Yes?" he asked when it appeared Zelenka had forgotten all about him. The scientist looked up startled, confirming Caldwell's evaluation of the situation. "You have something that will help?" he prompted.

"Yes, yes. I have still not been able to calibrate sensors to determine different types of lifesigns, but I _think_ I can distinguish now between large and small signs."

"How large is large?"

The Czech squinted, considering the readings on the device he was holding. "Anything over approximately a hundred pounds should show up on the jumper's scanners as a distinct signal. But it is only temporary. The components were not designed to draw so much power and they will eventually burn out."

"Well, it's something," said Caldwell. "I'll have one of my pilots…"

A screaming roar from the forest interrupted him.

Zelenka's eyes became twice as big. "What was that?" he asked nervously.

Grabbing the scientist by the arm, Caldwell began pulling him towards the jumper. The medical team had also exited, looking for the source of the sound. "Back in the jumper!" he yelled, giving any civilian who hesitated an unceremonious shove towards the safety of the interior, before palming the exterior door control over their protests. He signaled his men on the beach to decrease the radius of their guard before clicking his radio twice.

"_We heard it too, sir,"_ came the whispered reply. There was a short pause before Stackhouse continued, _"Teyla says she's sure it didn't come from the creature we're tracking--wrong direction and too far away." _There was another pause._ "She thinks that since they're sharing the same territory, they might be a mated pair."_

"Great. Two of them," muttered Caldwell under his breath. Another scream pierced the air, echoing through the forest. His men shifted nervously but held their position.

"Colonel!"

Caldwell turned to see Zelenka poking his head out of the back of the jumper. "Close the damn hatch!" he yelled, half in exasperation and half in anger.

"Colonel, we can see it on the sensors!" insisted the scientist, ignoring the order.

Cursing under his breath, Caldwell ran into the jumper. A quick glance at the display grid showed a glowing dot that represented a large lifesign in the nearby forest. It was moving slowly away from their camp.

"We should search from the air," suggested Zelenka.

"Yes," agreed Caldwell, knowing aerial reconnaissance was one of the best hopes for pinpointing the location of their missing men. "Stackhouse reported that the forest is too thick to put down," he said, turning to the medical team. "You two should stay here so we can send you in by ground immediately if Dr. Zelenka finds them." He poked his head out of the jumper calling for his pilot, "Wilson!"

oOo

"That's Teyla's scouting party," said Wilson to Zelenka, comparing the coordinates of searchers' known location against the lifesigns showing on the jumper's screen. He began circling above the dense vegetation, spiraling out further with each completed loop.

"My God!" exclaimed Zelenka excitedly, pointing at the screen. "Is that them?" Three lifesigns appeared to be grouped together, obviously moving. He felt his heart skip a beat when he noticed a fourth stationary dot nearby.

"Shit!" exclaimed the pilot, pointing at the fourth sign. "If that's what's stalking them, they're headed right for it." He quickly radioed Stackhouse with the coordinates, gnashing his teeth in frustration at the heavy canopy that prevented him from _seeing_ Sheppard's group or warning them about the danger they were walking into.

"It might not even be them," said Zelenka, torn between the desire to have found the missing men and worry that it wouldn't be soon enough to save them.

* * *

_Hang in there. We backtrack to what's befallen our intrepid trio next chapter :-)._


	3. Cat Circumvention

The lean-to fell on them like a ton of bricks, leaving Sheppard face down and coughing out a mouthful of sand. He heard an angry scream behind him and twisted, looking over his shoulder to find the biggest cat he'd ever seen clawing and biting at the tarp. Beckett and Rodney yelled in panic and confusion as they encountered the deadly claws and fought to free themselves from under the tangled tarp. Struggling to kick his legs free from the heavy fabric, Sheppard managed to reach his gym bag and frantically plunged a hand in, relieved to feel the heavy steel of his 9 mil. He heard another scream from under the tarp as he rolled over and began emptying his clip into the beast. The creature shrieked and wailed in anger; and though it didn't fall, it at least it stopped attacking the men beneath. Sheppard paused, eyeing it warily and wondering if the ammo had left was enough to take it down or just make it angrier. For several long moments, the beast stared at him in silent stillness, as if sizing him up. There was no sound or movement beneath the tarp, as if Beckett and Rodney were holding their breath as well. Sheppard hoped they were just _playing_ dead inside their canvas cocoon. He breathed a sigh of relief when the creature finally backed away and stumbled unsteadily towards the jumper, shaking its head in irritation. Flipping on the safety, he tucked the gun into the band of his shorts and tugged frantically at the tarp. "Rodney?"

"Yeah," was the pained reply. A hand reached out into the air through the folds of fabric. Sheppard latched on and dragged the scientist free. "What the hell?" McKay asked, panting in pain and clutching at his leg.

"Some sort of wild animal." Pawing through the rest of the tarp, Sheppard searched for their remaining teammate until he hit something solid. "Doc?" he asked, but there was no reply. It took him a minute to free Beckett from the twisted mass of fabric and pull him out. He was covered in blood.

"Oh God," said Rodney, his leg forgotten at the sight of Beckett's crimson soaked clothing.

Sheppard put two fingers to the doctor's neck, relieved when he found a pulse. He and Rodney both began to peel off the blood covered shirt. All the while, Sheppard kept one eye on creature that had settled in front of the jumper to lick its wounds. Rodney followed his glance and practically jumped out of his skin.

"_That_'s what attacked us?"

"Yeah."

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Shoot it!"

"I did, several times, and at least three of those were head shots. They hardly slowed it down."

Beckett groaned and Rodney turned his attention back to their injured friend, carefully peeling off the last of the shirt and revealing four deep claw marks that went from the doctor's right shoulder all the way to his left side. "This is not good. This is _so_ not good!"

"Let me see." Rodney moved aside and Sheppard examined the wounds carefully. "They're deep, but they don't look like they've penetrated his chest cavity or abdomen." Whipping off the towel from around his neck, which by some miracle had managed to stay in place throughout their ordeal, he pressed it against Beckett's chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood. There were several deep puncture wounds in the doctor's forearm, which seemed to indicate he'd been bitten as well as clawed. "We need to get him to the infirmary."

"Really?" said Rodney, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hadn't thought of that." The cat gave a growling cry and stumbled to its feet, taking a few steps towards them before collapsing with an angry hiss, its golden eyes never leaving them for even a moment. Rodney swallowed nervously. "What do you suggest we do? It's between us and the jumper."

"I'm working on it." Sheppard considered his options. If he was lucky, he _might_ be able to outmaneuver the injured animal and make it to the jumper, but that would leave McKay and Beckett totally at the creature's mercy in the meantime. As the cat began dragging itself slowly but determinedly towards them, he came to his decision. "We'll have to circle around." He started lightly slapping Beckett's face, still keeping one wary eye on the creature. "Come on, Doc. Sleep time is over. We gotta go." Beckett opened his eyes and blinked but Sheppard could see he wasn't focusing. It was better than nothing. "Give me a hand, Rodney."

"Are you crazy? We can't move him!"

The creature stumbled to its feet again making its way another yard towards them and loosing a screaming roar before it collapsed, panting. There was a faint answering cry from somewhere further down the beach past the jumper.

"Okay." The scientist rose shakily to his feet and would have fallen if Sheppard hadn't steadied him. After a few seconds, he found he could put weight on his injured leg if he was careful.

Sheppard quickly threw several items into the gym bag, slung it over his back, and gave Rodney an encouraging slap on the arm. "Come on, McKay, I'm counting on you," he said as he reached down and hauled the unresisting Beckett to his feet, slinging the doctor's left arm around his shoulder. Rodney did the same with the right. Angling away from the cat, they made their way haltingly up the dune and into the forest.

"Far enough," said Sheppard after several minutes. "Let's start heading in the direction of the jumper." The words were no sooner out of his mouth when there was a deep, angry roar from the beach nearby. Whispering "stay here," he shifted Beckett, leaning him against a tree. Leaving Rodney to steady the injured physician, he crept carefully toward the sound and felt his heart sink when he confirmed that the second cat had joined the first. He knew he didn't have a chance in hell in outmaneuvering a healthy version of what they had seen, and with an injured Rodney and Beckett to take into consideration as well, it narrowed his choices dramatically. The second cat might not be tracking them yet, but Sheppard was betting that it was only a matter of time. Right now, their best course of action was to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the cats and hope they could outmaneuver the creatures until Atlantis could send help. He crept back to his men. As he shifted Beckett's arm back over his shoulder, the doctor struggled to take some of his own weight and Sheppard was happy to see lucidity in the blue eyes. "You finally with us, Doc?" Encouraged by Beckett's answering nod, he led them deeper into the forest.

McKay stumbled under the doctor's weight. "Where are we going? We need to get him back to the jumper!"

"The jumper's a no-go."

Mouth gaping several times in frustration, Rodney finally asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Put some distance between them and us, then try to double-back if we can."

The scientist pondered that answer for a long moment. "How long before Atlantis misses us?"

"We weren't due back until tonight. Let's hope Elizabeth's spidey senses are tingling." Sheppard paused, looking around alertly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"This way," said Sheppard, steering them slightly to the left.

It wasn't long before Rodney caught the sound as well. "Water?"

"Sounds like."

Following the faint noise, they soon found themselves on a riverbank and eased Beckett to the ground. Blood still flowed liberally from the wound on his chest and the doctor had turned an ashen gray. Sheppard felt for a pulse and found it weak and racing as the injured man shifted slightly beneath his fingers. "How ya feeling, Doc?"

"C-cold."

It was an easily recognizable sign. "Shock," Sheppard said grimly to Rodney.

The scientist pulled off his jacket; between the two of them they managed to get Beckett into it. "I can't believe you brought a lifesigns detector and a gun, but no first-aid kit!" he snapped as they applied more pressure to the doctor's ever-bleeding chest.

"There's a fully stocked kit on the jumper so I didn't think I needed to bring another one. Or an elephant gun either for that matter," replied Sheppard. He let Rodney keep pressure on Beckett's wound while he examined the scientist's leg. Several long scratches ran the length from hip to knee but they were shallower than Beckett's and were bleeding fairly sluggishly--no immediate danger, he concluded, but they needed dressing. Of course, they didn't have any bandages. There was deep, echoing, roar in the direction from which they had fled. It was still fairly distant but Sheppard thought it sounded closer than it should have if the creature was still on the beach.

"What was that?" asked a weak and confused voice between them.

"That's what's going to get you a free pass with any woman you meet from now on," Sheppard joked gently as he futilely pawed though his gym bag, looking for something that would help. At Rodney's inquiring look, he clarified, "Women love heroic scars."

There was another low roar in the distance to their left and a weaker answering one further toward their right.

Cursing softly under his breath, Sheppard studied the river at their backs. It was broad, but slow-moving and shallow. He looked back at Rodney in sudden inspiration. "They hate water, right?"

"What? How the hell should I know?"

"You have a cat."

"Oh, right," said McKay, narrowing his eyes sarcastically. "Like this thing resembles my five-pound tabby?"

Sheppard came to a decision. "We're going for a little swim." Before hauling Beckett to his feet, he zipped up the doctor's jacket, hoping it would help hold the makeshift towel bandage in place. Making sure Rodney had a firm grip on their injured teammate, he let go of the doctor and slid down the few feet of muddy embankment into the river. The water was only waist high and much warmer than he thought it would be.

McKay swayed under his share of the doctor's weight. "Pretend I have no idea why on Earth we would want to slog though a muddy river and explain to me what we're doing again?"

"You two leave a blood trail my grandma could follow!" Sheppard replied, reaching up to help Beckett slide down the bank. He steadied the doctor and waited for Rodney to join them.

"So sorry our bleeding to death is inconveniencing you," snapped McKay as he followed them down, making sure his good leg took the brunt of the impact when he landed with a splash beside them. Taking Beckett's arm over his shoulder again, they began slowly wading upriver, occasionally stumbling on the unsure footing of the river bottom. "God knows what's living in here," the scientist muttered, looking into the murky water flowing gently past them. "Snakes, piranha, leeches…"

"We need to get some distance from this thing if we're going to circle around and make it back to the jumper," explained Sheppard. "We can't do that if it's hot on our trail. In case you haven't noticed. It's a hell of a lot faster than we are."

Beckett stumbled again, almost bringing the two of them down. "This can't be good for him," said Rodney, worriedly. He shifted his grip around the doctor's waist as they started wading again.

"Neither is being Felix's snackcake," replied Sheppard.

"Felix?" Another roar could be clearly heard, even nearer than before, and the scientist paled noticeably.

"Fine, we can call it whatever you want. What did you name your cat?"

"What?" Rodney blinked in confusion, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Just trying to keep you from panicking. How 'bout we call it 'Fluffy'?"

"I don't panic." There was a short pause. "'Lucifer' seems much more appropriate."

"You're missing the point, Rodney..." he stopped suddenly when Beckett stumbled and shifted the doctor more firmly between them. He realized that he needed to do something to help keep the doctor alert and focused. "Come on, Doc, talk to me."

"'bout what?" slurred the physician.

"Tell me about..." Sheppard searched his brain trying to come up with a topic that would engage their injured teammate. "...tell me about fishing."

Beckett's reply was weak and muzzy. "Fishing?"

"Yeah, fishing. What do you fish for?"

"Ummm…brown trout...usually."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Sheppard tried again, "Tell me about the one that got away."

"Hmm?"

Sheppard shifted the doctor's arm slightly, easing the strain on his shoulder. "Every fisherman I've ever known has a story about the one that got away," he encouraged.

"Hooked a Salmon on the Aros once."

"The Aros, is that a river or a lake?"

"Loche," corrected Beckett automatically. "It's a river."

"Big fish?"

"Huge," agreed the Scot, his voice a little stronger. "Waited until it was near enough for me to touch then snapped my line like it was naught more than sewing thread and disappeared. Cheeky bastard."

Sheppard chuckled and continued to pelt him with fishing questions. When he ran out, Rodney managed to draw the doctor into a mild debate over the existence of the Loche Ness Monster--anything to keep him talking.

They spent another hour in the river, making painstaking progress upstream until Beckett began shivering violently and passed out. His teammates managed to get him out of the water and onto dry land, laying him on thick bed of leaves and elevating his feet. At least the weather was on their side--the warm day was quickly disappearing into what seemed likely to become a balmy evening.

Kneeling down beside them, Sheppard unslung the gym bag. "Here," he said, pulling out the lifesigns detector and his gun, handing the latter to Rodney as they stood up.

"What? Why?" Rodney took the gun awkwardly as he rose. Though he had been trained in its use, it still felt alien in his hand.

Sheppard ignored him and scanned the immediate vicinity for any readings. Satisfied, began to walk deeper into the forest.

"Where are you going?" hissed Rodney.

"Recon. I'm going to have a look around before it gets too dark."

"You're leaving us here? Alone?" The last word came out as more of a squeak.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Rodney licked his lips nervously. "No."

"I'll be back before it gets completely dark." Looking around at the ground, he picked up a sturdy fallen branch so he wouldn't be entirely defenseless. "Do what you can for him," he said before he melted into the forest.

Rodney sighed inwardly and knelt back down beside Beckett, unzipping the jacket to find that the towel they had used as a bandage was soaked completely through with blood. He looked worriedly at the crimson-stained terrycloth and tried to not to think about how much more Carson could afford to lose and still live.


	4. Darkness Decends

"'Lovely idea, this'," said Rodney, sarcastically imitating a Scottish brogue as he dug through Sheppard's gym bag. He dropped back to his regular voice. "You just _had_ to jinx us, didn't you?"

Beckett opened his eyes, apparently confused to see worried blue ones staring back at him. "What?" he asked fuzzily.

"I said you jinxed us," Rodney repeated in a slightly calmer tone now that Carson had finally regained consciousness. Pulling the last towel out of the Colonel's gym bag, he pressed it against the gashes on Beckett's chest, grimacing in sympathy when the doctor hissed in pain. "And by the way," he continued, "You can stop all this bleeding crap any time now!"

"Right," replied the Scot in agreement. His eyes drifted closed.

"No!" McKay panicked. He watched as Beckett opened his eyes again, obviously surprised and confused by the outburst. "Stay awake and tell me what to do," he pleaded.

"'bout what?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about the fact that you won't stop bleeding all over my favorite jacket!" he exclaimed, panic creeping back into his tone.

"Keep pressure on the wound," he answered automatically.

"We've _been_ doing that! It's not helping."

Beckett lifted his head slightly and saw that the towel Rodney was holding against his chest was already beginning to stain a bright red. Dropping his head back down and closing his eyes, he frowned as he tried to force his fuzzy mind to cooperate.

"Carson?"

"I'm thinking, Rodney," he replied weakly, assuring the scientist he was still with him. "Might have been some sort of anticoagulant in its bite." He opened his eyes and looked around at the gathering darkness. "Where's Colonel Sheppard?" he asked suddenly.

"Scouting around for a four-star hotel." Rodney watched worriedly as the doctor's eyes slid closed again. "Carson?"

Beckett blinked heavily, apparently trying to rein in his scattered thoughts. "Do you know what aloe looks like?"

Struggling to switch gears, Rodney narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Some sort of cactus, right?"

"Close enough. Teyla's people found a similar plant growing on the mainland that might help. See if you can find some."

"Right," agreed McKay starting to rise, but Beckett's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Don't go too far though?"

"Don't worry," the scientist assured him. "I'll remain within 'girly screaming distance' at all times." The comment earned him a small smile from the Scot who released his wrist before closing his eyes again tiredly.

Luckily, Rodney didn't have to go too far to find what he was looking for. Ripping off several of the fat emerald spires from the plant, he brought them back to the physican. "Carson?"

Beckett opened his eyes. "Still here," he confirmed.

"Is this it?" he asked hopefully, holding out an armful of succulent spiny green leaves.

Beckett squinted, willing his eyes to focus in the dim light. "Yes."

"What do I do with them?"

"Break the leaves open, the sap should be gooey."

"Gooey? Is that a technical term?" Rodney asked, trying for levity. Ripping open the thick-set leaves, he pressed them between his fingers so that the sap oozed out. "Now what?"

"Spread it on the scratches."

"Right." McKay gently pulled off the blood-soaked towel. Squeezing the leaves over Beckett's chest, he spread the gel in a thick coating over the deep gashes. He followed them over the Scot's shoulder to the deep puncture wounds that announced where the beast's claws had first dug in. He paused when he realized Carson was panting and biting his lip. "What's wrong?"

"It just…stings a bit," Beckett gasped.

"Should I stop?" Rodney asked uncertainly.

"No. The sap has antiseptic properties. That's why it burns. Keep doing what you're doing," he encouraged.

Rodney continued to spread the sap until he had completely covered the wound. The burning sensation must have abated because Beckett no longer seemed to be suffering as much discomfort. Shifting slightly to ease the strain on his injured leg, he loosed a small curse as the muscle cramped.

Beckett, who had been drowsing, noticed the torn pants for the first time "Did it get you too, then? How bad?"

"Not nearly as bad as you; and I only got clawed, not bitten."

"I should have a look at it," he mumbled, his eyes sliding shut.

"Riiight," said Rodney, settling down beside the dozing physician and gingerly stretching out his legs. "You do that."

A crash somewhere nearby snapped Beckett instantly awake. Rodney placed a hand on his shoulder and held a finger to his lips before quietly picking up the pistol lying beside them in the leaves. Beckett remained still and silent, but Rodney could almost feel the adrenalin coursing through his weakened body through his fngertips. They stayed frozen for several minutes.

"I think it was just a falling limb," Rodney finally said quietly. He took the opportunity to recheck the sap-covered slashes on Carson's chest. "That stuff works pretty well."

Beckett lifted a trembling hand to lightly touch one of the deep wounds. The gel from the leaves had hardened to form a sort of scab, sealing the gashes and helping to slow the bleeding. "Maybe you should put some on your leg."

"Already did," Rodney told him. "It burned like hell, too." He pulled a bottle of water out of the bag. "Thirsty?" When he got an affirmative nod, he put the bottle down on the ground beside them and helped Beckett sit up against a tree trunk. Carson clung to him for dear life as the world spun and the edges of his vision blackened. "Easy," said Rodney, supporting him until he was able to sit up unaided. "Here." Uncapping the bottle, he helped Scot's shaky hands support it as he took several long sips. "Okay?"

"Aye," Beckett replied, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "How's your leg?" He had yet to get a good look at the injury.

"Been better," said Rodney. He gingerly stretched out the appendage so the little light that remained shined on the remnants of his pant leg. The gashes underneath shown starkly against his pale skin.

Learning over to take a closer look, Beckett clutched out for support when he was hit with a wave a dizziness. Rodney braced him against the tree until the worst of it passed. "I'm okay now," he finally assured him.

Rodney looked unconvinced but released him. A sharp snap to their left had McKay wavering unsteadily on his feet, pistol aimed into the dark forest, before he even realized it. Sheppard came into view and froze, startled to see his own gun pointed at him. Rodney rolled his eyes at him in relief and lowered the weapon.

"How's he doing?" the colonel asked as he approached them. Kneeling down by Beckett, he tapping the dried sap gently with a fingernail and nodded in approval.

Irritated, Beckett pushed the hand away. "He's doing bloody great. I'm right here you know. You could just ask me," he snapped.

With a good-natured grin at the sharp comments, Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder. "You're certainly feistier, I'll say that for you."

Beckett opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply but checked when he noticed mud caked all along one side of Sheppard's body. "What happened to you?"

"Tripped in the bad light. I'm a little bruised but fine," he assured the doctor. He reached into his pocket and handed Rodney what was left of the lifesigns detector with a grimace. "There was a casualty, however."

Rodney briefly examined the device before loosing several colorful words. "This is totally unfixable!"

"Come on, Rodney, you can fix anything."

"Oh, right, I'll just make these exceedingly delicate repairs with leaves and twigs," snapped the scientist. He paused suddenly, looking toward the gym bag.

Sheppard shook his head at the hopeful glance. "No first-aid kit, no elephant gun, and no super-scientist tool kits." He watched Rodney deflate a little. "We'll just have to make do without it. I didn't see any sign of the cats and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they're not nocturnal since we were attacked in broad daylight. Hopefully, we'll have a quiet night." He held out his hand for the gun. "You two try and get some rest."

Rodney handed over the pistol. "What about you?"

"I'll wake you in a few hours so I can grab a _cat_ nap."

Rodney did a double-take in disbelief but Beckett laughed. It quickly turned into a coughing fit. Sheppard uncapped the water bottle and helped the Scot take a few sips, watching worriedly until the doctor managed to catch his breath.

"That's your revenge for my Klingon joke, I take it," he wheezed, wiping his eyes, but he was grinning.

Sheppard smiled a little at him and patted him on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, Doc."

As if the mere suggestion was enough, Beckett's eyes slid closed. He soon dropped into a quiet slumber.

Rodney began picking apart the detector. "I'm not very sleepy," he said in response to Sheppard's inquiring look.

Shrugging, Sheppard made his way over to one side of their little camp, looking for the best place to settle in for the night. He suddenly began cursing and hopping on one foot. Steadying himself against a tree, he picked away some of the leaves on the bottom of his foot and brushed away a small sharp stone.

"Shoes don't seem like such a bad idea any more, do they?"

Shooting Rodney a sarcastic glare, he finished brushing the last of the debris off the bottom of his foot and settled himself on the ground with his back against the cover of a large tree. He leaned against the truck and rested the pistol in his lap--relaxed but alert.

Rodney put aside the unsalvageable detector with a sigh. It had been a lost cause from the beginning and he knew it. Following Sheppard's example, he made himself as comfortable as possible--crossing his arms, settling back into the thick dead leaves, and closing his eyes.

For several long minutes, everything was quiet and still as the darkness wrapped its velvet arms around them.

"How far do you think it is back to the beach?" he asked, worriedly.

"He'll make it, Rodney."

oOo

"Morning, Sunshine," said Sheppard, gently shaking Beckett awake after an uneventful night. He helped him sit up and watched as the doctor blinked at him blearily. "Here, have some water." Supporting the bottle, he let the Scot drink his fill. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," the doctor replied, though he could tell by the way Sheppard cocked his head at him that he didn't sound very convincing. The colonel handed him a power bar. "Breakfast of champions."

"Where did this come from?" he asked, peeling the wrapper with shaky hands before taking a bite.

Sheppard gave a head tilt in Rodney's direction. The scientist was already halfway through his own bar. "Do you have to ask? They're the Rodney McKay version of the American Express card." When Beckett looked at him confused, he clarified, "He never leaves home without them."

Rodney glared in response but said nothing, crumpling the empty wrapper and shoving it deep into his pocket before attempting, unsuccessfully, to stand.

"Hang on," said Sheppard, coming over and giving him a hand up. He gave him the stick, acquired the previous night for defensive purposes, to use as a staff. "Walk around a little. It'll help with the stiffness."

While Rodney followed his suggestion, Sheppard returned his attention to Beckett, waiting patiently until the Scot finished the powerbar before offering him some more water which was thirstily accepted. "Finished?" Beckett gave him an affirmative nod so Sheppard waved McKay over to join them. "Good, 'cause it's time to go." Sliding his hand behind the doctor's back, he lifted him to his feet with Rodney's help.

Beckett clutched at them weakly, knees shaking with the effort.

"We gotcha, Doc," Sheppard assured him, holding him steady until the worst of the dizziness had passed. "Ready?" he asked once the doctor seemed back in control.

Carson didn't dare shake his head. Swallowing hard instead, he answered quietly, "Yes."

"Great, because I can't carry you _and_ listen to McKay gripe. It's more than one man should have to endure," Sheppard joked.

Beckett managed a weak grin in reply since he knew the comment had been made strictly for his benefit.

"We're not going back to the river?" Rodney asked when Sheppard started leading them away from the water.

"No, we need to head back toward the jumper."

"What about the cats?"

"I'm hoping we lost them."

"I can't believe they haven't sent search parties," said Rodney as they made their way through the forest, Beckett supported carefully between them.

"They're looking for us. I heard a jumper overhead earlier but the canopy was too dense to get a visual."

"Make we should build a signal fire instead of trying to make it back to the jumper," the scientist suggested.

Sheppard shook his head. "Assuming the smoke doesn't dissipate through the trees, there's no place to land a jumper. Besides, the cat would probably be able to smell it and we'd be sitting ducks. Better to stay on the move and try to make it back to the beach if we can. That's where the searches set up base camp."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what I would have done."

"What about the pistol?" asked Rodney. "Can we shoot it and let them know where we are?"

"It's not a flare gun. Right now, it would just echo through the whole forest. Maybe when we get closer to the beach."

Rodney was silent for several moments. "You know," he finally said. "We really should put some satellites in orbit so we have a G.P.S. system."

"It's on the to-do list," Sheppard replied. When Rodney seemed surprised, he added, "Elizabeth thought it would be helpful for the Athosians. We had trouble finding a couple of the hunters before the hurricane and it'll make it easier for them to map out the mainland as they explore it."

"Oh."

The ground became more uneven and the thick leaves hid roots and holes left from rotted stumps. Conversation died out altogether as the men concentrated on their footing. They eventually found themselves at the bottom of a steep incline.

"This is the hard part, so we're going to take a little break before we climb," Sheppard said, easing Beckett down. He pulled out the last bottle of water and handed it to Rodney while he examined the hill for the best approach.

Rodney uncapped the bottle and helped Beckett take several long swigs before drinking some himself.

"Doc, you still with us?" Sheppard asked, giving the doctor's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"Aye." Beckett held up his arms inviting Sheppard to pull him up, and allowing him and Rodney to support him until the dizziness, now his constant companion, abated a little.

"Just try and stay focused, okay?"

"'kay," he agreed.

It was a long and difficult climb, compounded by the fact that Rodney couldn't offer much help with Beckett. He was struggling himself with his stiffened leg. They finally crested the hill and practically stumbled right into the very thing they had spent a day and night trying to avoid. The large cat was sitting on top of a large boulder, perfectly camouflaged and entirely within its element. Ears flattened against its skull and dried blood on its face, Sheppard had no doubt it was every bit as pissed as it looked. Without a word, Sheppard and Rodney slowly eased Beckett down to his knees between them so they'd have their hands free, their eyes never leaving the cat's.

"She's beautiful," Beckett said softly in surprise, mesmerized by the cat's markings and luxurious coat.

"Any ideas?" Sheppard asked out of the corner of his mouth, pulling out his pistol. He seriously doubted his remaining ammunition was going to be enough to bring the beast down.

"Sure," hissed Rodney sarcastically, shifting his grip on his staff to that of a hockey stick. "You got about twenty pounds of catnip?"

As the cat hunkered down further, Rodney paled. Sheppard could see its muscles tightening in preparation for an attack.

It loosed a scream and sprang.


	5. Successful Search

"_Sergeant!" _The jumper pilot called over the radio.

"Stackhouse here."

"_We think we've found them but there's another lifesign nearby. It could be one of the cat creatures."_ The coordinates he gave were followed by an odd popping noise. _"Damn it!"_

"What's wrong?"

"_We lost the sensors."_

"How far away from them was the other lifesign?"

"_Not nearly far enough."_

Stackhouse signaled to his men and they began to run. Teyla quickly outdistanced them and the sergeant put his head down and poured on extra speed, almost running her down before he realized she had stopped. She signaled to him and moved ahead, her gun raised and ready. Breaking through the trees, they found themselves at the top of a steep hill. In front of them were their missing men, but they weren't alone. As the cat screamed and sprung, Teyla and Stackhouse raised their P90s.

oOo

The faint, far-off sound of gunfire echoed through the forest. Fredricks, who had been discussing various emergency response scenarios with his medic, halted mid-sentence and looked to Caldwell in alarm.

Caldwell clicked his radio, "Sergeant?"

A few seconds a burst of static was followed by the voice of one of the enlisted men. "Zelenka… possible coordinates… Teyla... Stackhouse… separated."

Caldwell shook his head in annoyance. "Sergeant!" he demanded into the radio. He ground his teeth in frustration for several seconds while he waited.

"_We have them, Sir!" _reported Stackhouse finally.

"How are they?" asked Fredricks, having overheard the transmission. He waited anxiously while Caldwell relayed the question.

"_Dr. Beckett's in bad shape, Sir. He's pretty clawed up."_ There was a short pause as Stackhouse received the rest of the evaluations from his men._ "Dr. McKay's hurt his leg, but he can still walk. Colonel Sheppard is uninjured."_

"Just let me grab my bag," said Fredricks.

"_Teyla recommends you not send the medical personnel in. She's sure the cat's mate is nearby."_

Caldwell grabbed the sleeve of the doctor's jacket, stopping him in his tracks. "Is it just a feeling or does she have something solid to back that up?" he asked, maintaining eye contact with Fredricks.

"_Sir, we haven't actually seen anything but…"_

"But what, Sergeant?"

"_I'd swear something's watching us."_

"Very well," replied Caldwell before clicking off his radio. "Sorry, Doctor, he's going to have to make do for the time being."

oOo

They were making much better time now that both Beckett and McKay had a marine to either side supporting them. Teyla, Sheppard, and the rest of the men moved to the perimeter of the group, scanning the trees nervously. Sheppard kept rubbing the hair that was standing up on the back of his neck in irritation, all the while keeping his newly acquired P90 at the ready.

"How much further?" asked Rodney, panting. Even with the marines now assisting them, it was hard going and he was exhausted. God only knew how Carson was staying on his feet, though in truth, the marines seemed to be practically carrying the doctor.

"Not far," Teyla assured him.

They finally broke out of the forest and onto the beach, Caldwell and his men yelling in greeting, only it wasn't in greeting Sheppard realized just before he was smashed to the ground with crushing force. He heard the echoing reports as P90s fired, and various shouts, but they seemed strangely distant, probably because it was hard to hear over his brain's insistent screams for oxygen. Things went gray then black as his lungs refused to obey.

The cat gave a final dying scream and collapsed on top of Sheppard.

Rodney and several of the marines leapt forward, trying to shove the enormous cat off him. Caldwell grabbed McKay's upper arm and jerked him back forcefully to make room for a larger marine who had an infinitely better chance of moving the beast than the weakened scientist. The unexpected movement forced Rodney to put his full weight on his bad leg, causing it to collapse under him. Caldwell, still gripping his arm, managed to keep him from hitting the ground too hard. Beckett was also being half restrained, half supported by Fredricks who, in exasperation, took a page out of Caldwell's book by tugging his department head off balance and firmly sitting the injured man on the sand so that he could be examined. The marines managed to heave the huge cat off, and Beckett shoved Fredricks towards Sheppard.

The doctor and medic carefully rolled Sheppard over. "He's not breathing."

The medic did a few quick mouth-to-mouth breaths and Sheppard's lungs, reminded of how wonderful oxygen could be, took several deep, gasping inhalations. Beckett gave a relieved sigh as the medic went for a backboard and collar.

oOo

Caldwell took a seat near the rear of the jumper by Teyla so he could keep an eye on their passengers. Beckett was lying on one bench seat. McKay was sitting on the other, his back against the rear wall and his legs stretched out before him on the seat. Sheppard was on the floor between them so that both Fredricks and the medic could attend to everyone as needed.

Fredricks checked the readings on the blood pressure gage worriedly. "Your pressure sucks, Carson."

"As does your bedside manner," replied Beckett in a weak but testy voice. He watched through half-closed eyes as the doctor prepared an I.V.

"His chest wouldn't stop bleeding," Rodney volunteered, grimacing as the medic examined his leg.She was trying to peel the fabric of his pants away from the wound, but it was glued to his leg by a combination of sap and blood.

"Let's get you out of your jacket so I can see what I'm dealing with," said Fredricks, helping his colleague sit up and pull his arms out of the sleeves before easing him back down and covering him with a blanket.

Beckett's head had begun to spin alarmingly the moment he sat up and continued to do so even though he was lying down again. "S'not mine. Rodney's."

"Well the least you can do is have it cleaned before you return it," said McKay with false ire, relieved that Carson was now in professional hands.

Fredricks ran a thumb over the dried sap on Beckett's chest. "What _is_ this stuff?" He glanced at the medic and realized she was dealing with the same thing.

"It's from a plant on the mainland. He wouldn't stop bleeding," McKay repeated shakily. His adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off. The medic noticed and pulled down another blanket from the overhead compartment, wrapping it around him.

"These are scratches from that creature, I take it?" Fredricks decided not to disturb the sap until they were back in Atlantis and had access to a full infirmary. He notice more sap on one of Carson's arms. "And is this a bite?"

Nodding, McKay repeated their earlier fears, "He thought its saliva might contain some sort of anticoagulant."

"I think the damn beastie envenomed me," slurred Beckett in agreement. "You should take a blood sample."

"You don't have any to spare at the moment so I think it can wait until we get your pressure up." He pumped the blood pressure cuff again, trying to get a vein. "We can't analyze it until we get you back to Atlantis anyway," he said as he finally managed to slide the needle in and tape it in place. A groan from Sheppard caused him to glance down. "Back with us, Colonel? How do you feel?" he asked cheerfully, though he let the medic take lead in hands-on care while he attempted to start a second I.V. on Beckett.

Sheppard opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright lights of the jumper. "Like I got clobbered by a truck…a large-ass, pissed-off, furry Mac truck."

"With nasty, big, pointy teeth," Beckett chimed in cheerfully, still slurring his words a bit.

"And claws," agreed Rodney. "Don't forget the claws, Carson."

"As if I could, ya dobber!"

When Sheppard tried to turn his head to better see his teammates, the medic put her hand on his shoulder. "You're on a backboard and have a cervical collar on until we can clear your neck and spine." She reached over him so that she could grasp both his hands. "Can you squeeze my fingers?" She smiled at him. "That's good." She moved down to his feet. "Can you tell me if you feel anything?"

"You're pressing on my foot."

"Which foot and where," she prompted.

He blinked at the ceiling of the jumper. "My left heel. And now my right big toe."

She moved back up to his head and patted him on the shoulder, "That's a good sign."

"Can you at least unstrap _one_ of my hands?"

She gave him a calculating look. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Colonel. Your reputation as a difficult patient proceeds you."

He heard Beckett snort off to his left and chose to ignore him. He gave her a charming smile. "Really, my face itches. I just want to scratch it, please."

She glanced at Franklin and received an affirmative nod. "Okay, just one hand and you're not to try to move anything other than your arm at the elbow. Are we clear?"

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Sheppard. The itch was becoming maddening. He sighed in relief as she freed his arm allowing him to scratch at his cheek scraping off the sand and mud stuck there.

"It amazes me, Colonel, how you always seem to attract so much trouble," said Caldwell, speaking for the first time since he entered the jumper.

Sheppard closed his eyes tiredly. "It was just supposed to be a nice day at the beach." His eyes snapped opened in a sudden thought, "Did anyone get my board?"

"I heard Sergeant Stackhouse telling one of the men that he would bring it back," volunteered Teyla.

Sheppard closed his eyes in relief. "I think I'm going to have to kiss him."

"Or you could just promote him," suggested Rodney, dryly.

Without bothering to open his eyes, Sheppard pointed his free index finger at McKay. "Even better," he agreed.

"Just where did you get a surfboard anyway?" Caldwell asked.

Rodney snickered uncharacteristically when Sheppard's eyes shot open in alarm.

Frowning, Caldwell asked, "Something funny, Doctor?"

"No," he said, struggling to keep a straight face but Beckett began chuckling and eventually even Sheppard was laughing despite the medic urging him to remain as still as possible.

Fredricks caught Teyla's and Caldwell's worried expressions and shook his head slightly. "They're okay…just a little punchy from the stress," he assured them.

oOo

Elizabeth watched worriedly as the jumper set down in the bay. Caldwell had radioed her that everyone was alive and in stable condition, but that was something she needed to see for herself. She stepped back as gurneys and medical personnel swarmed the jumper. After a brief flurry of activity, a gurney with John was rolled out. The medic accompanying him waved her over.

She looked down at the bedraggled figure. His eyes were closed. "John?"

He opened them quickly enough, even gave her a tired but genuine smile. "Hell of a way to spend a weekend, huh?"

"It's good to have you back." She smiled and rested her hand on his arm, trying to hide her concern as she saw the straps holding him to the backboard and the neck brace.

The medic noticed though. "Just a precaution," she assured Weir.

It had the ring of truth so Elizabeth let herself relax a little as John was wheeled away.

Teyla came out next, helping an orderly support a limping McKay. The forty-five minute trip from the mainland had allowed his abused muscles to stiffen considerably. They eased him into a wheelchair and he gave her a small wave as she approached.

She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "How are you doing, Rodney?"

McKay wiggled one hand in a so-so gesture and gritted his teeth as the orderly eased his injured leg onto the chair's footrest. "Been better." He looked over his shoulder back towards the jumper. "Carson got the worst of it," he said, worriedly.

Elizabeth gave his shoulder another squeeze and stepped back as the orderly began rolling the chair towards the infirmary. She crossed her arms for comfort as she waited and looked to Teyla who had remained behind. "How bad is he?"

"He is very weak, but Dr. Fredricks is optimistic about his recovery."

A few seconds later, the second gurney rolled out of the jumper with Fredricks in attendance. They paused briefly so that he could make an adjustment to one of the I.V. bags and Elizabeth took the opportunity to approach them. She was shocked by Carson's appearance. The dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his face stood out starkly against his overly pale skin. She could see I.V. lines snaking out from under the blanket to either side. Fredricks folded a corner of the blanket out of his way so that he could unkink one of the lines and Elizabeth failed to suppress a surprised gasp when it revealed the bloodied chest and deep gashes. Carson's eyes fluttered open at the sound and reached out a pale hand. Elizabeth put on her best 'I'm sure everything will be alright' smile and took it in hers.

"Looks worse than it is," he assured her weakly, not fooled one bit by her expression.

Fredricks snorted. "That's good, because it _looks_ bloody awful," he said cheerfully, pulling the blanket back up now that he had finished with the I.V.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that, Michael?" Beckett replied, letting his weary eyes slide closed.

"So you've informed me on more than one occasion," said Fredricks. He smiled down affectionately at his boss before glancing up at Weir. "I'll keep you informed," he said in a more subdued tone.

"Thank you." She gave Carson's hand an encouraging squeeze which the Scot weakly returned before he was whisked away.

Caldwell, who had exited the jumper after Beckett's gurney, stood behind her.

"Thank you for bringing them home," she said, watching after the retreating figures a moment longer before turning to face him.

His eyes, focused on those same figures, flicked to hers. "You're welcome."

oOo

Sheppard was lying on his stomach on an infirmary bed, cold packs at various places on his back. He'd been cleared and no longer had to wear the neck brace, but he had wrenched his back and had several deep bruises that the doctors wanted to treat. They had given him something for the discomfort, not enough to make him loopy, just enough to take the edge off. He was being held for observation though he'd been told if there were no complications and he behaved himself, he would probably be released the following day. He turned his head gingerly to the left. McKay was in a nearby bed, his body draped in a sterile sheet while the medical personnel finished cleaning his wound to prepare it for stitching. They had given him a sedative as well as local anesthetic for his leg. Once or twice Sheppard saw his face crease with pain and his eyes half opened but they slid closed again almost immediately.

On his other side, Beckett slept in a bed with a surprising array of colorful bags hanging from his I.V. stand--the medical personnel having had the opportunity to analyze the doctor's blood and find a suitable counteragent for whatever the cat had introduced into his system. They were just waiting for his latest blood test to see if he was clotting normally before they attempted to remove the plant sap that seemed to have saved his life.

It had been a long two days. Yawning widely, Sheppard closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that his teammates were in good hands.

He woke the next morning feeling stiff and sore, but happy to find out that he would be released after lunch. Assuming Rodney's leg continued to show no signs of infection, he might get out as early as the following afternoon, though Fredricks was being particularly careful and had both McKay and Beckett on I.V. antibiotics as a precaution since feline scratches were notoriously prone to infection. The antiseptic properties of the plant sap were currently being touted as the reason neither man had developed a serious infection and the botanists and medics were practically wetting themselves to get samples of the plants for further testing.

Beckett, Sheppard learned, would be a guest of his own staff for at least several days longer, but he was already looking much better, though still pale and haggard. He also kept drifting off to sleep in the middle of sentences, which Sheppard found a little amusing.

"I take it back."

"Take what back, Doc?" asked Sheppard, turning his head towards Beckett's bed to see the doctor awake again.

"What I said about you being obsessive because you brought your gun surfing."

"It's okay, Doc. Once you've been off-world a few more times, you'll develop a _proper_ amount of paranoia," Sheppard assured him.

"Lovely. Can't wait," remarked the Scot sarcastically as his eyes slid shut.

**END**

**

* * *

Notes: **

No kitties were harmed during the writing of this fic.

"With nasty, big, pointy teeth" – Beckett, a little loopy from blood-loss, is purposely quoting Monty Python. Kudos if you caught the reference!

If I haven't managed to distract you enough and you're still wondering about it, Rodney might ferret out what Carson smuggled aboard the Daedalus in a later fic.


End file.
